


Scotch, Wine, and Red Dubonnet

by Olofa



Category: Incredibles (Pixar Movies)
Genre: F/F, maybe Helen's single, maybe she and Bob have an understanding, non-specific AU, whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 16:24:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17625710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Olofa/pseuds/Olofa
Summary: Evelyn Deavor just wanted a quiet drink in one of her favourite bars. Some guy sends her a drink. And this is how she dodged that encounter. Featuring a cameo by Stratogale as the waitress.





	Scotch, Wine, and Red Dubonnet

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in whichever AU lets the following events happen. Don't worry about it.  
> Also I might do a rewrite on my other Hevelyn fic, Rehabilitation Session One. We'll see.

The glass of scotch appeared on the booth’s wooden table sounding like a knock on a door. Evelyn Deavor looked up at the waitress. “Compliments of the gentleman at the bar, Miss Deavor,” she said.

O’Connor’s was one of Evelyn’s favourite places to relax with a drink. A good honest bar; clean, the dark wood feeling cozy to her, not fancy but not a dive. And no TV in the corner tuned to the ball game.

It wasn’t That Kind of place, of course. Evelyn knew where those were. She was always more than welcome at Dorothy's, for instance, since she installed radio sensors that could detect a cop car in plenty of time for them to avoid being raided. The staff always made a fuss when she showed up after that. She didn't need the free drinks, of course, but the attention was a good icebreaker.

Evelyn looked up, then looked where the waitress indicated. To her disappointment the man made eye contact with her. By his slick suit and mostly conservative hair she had him pegged as an “up-and-coming” young executive, probably in advertising judging by his trendy mod sideburns. He pointed a finger at her, pretended to shoot her with it, and blew the imaginary smoke off the imaginary barrel. He smiled at her with the smugness that too many people mistook for confidence, and - god help her - winked.

Evelyn set down her half-finished scotch next to the new one. “What should I tell him?” asked the waitress.

“Gail, right?” She recognized the sandy-haired young woman.

“Mm-hmm,” said Gail, smiling at being recognized.

Evelyn had a hunch that Gail might be welcome at Dorothy’s, too, not that Evelyn was interested. There was a lot of fuss over a new fashion model named Twiggy, and Gail had that same hipless, boyish silhouette. But Evelyn preferred someone more mature in mind and body. Still, she gave the girl an encouraging smile back. “Gail, how much extra did he tip you for bringing me this drink?”

“Nothing. Just the usual ten per cent.”

Evelyn had practice making herself heard over a boardroom full of men, so while her voice remained conversational she made sure it would carry across to the bar. “He tipped you how much? That’s pathetic.”

Gail flushed with embarrassment. “Um, what would you like me to tell him?”

Evelyn frowned at the two glasses as if she could see the future in them, and it felt like she could. Anything less than a clear rejection would be taken as encouragement, anything more would be taken as a challenge, or as playing hard-to-get. She didn’t want to hear him try to impress her, or argue over why she wasn’t interested. Even though she could rely on the bouncers at O’Connor’s to look out for her, she didn’t want to provoke Mr. Man into making a scene. Or worse yet, getting violent. Not that she could count on Gail to deliver a convincing “fuck you,” even if she was willing to put the girl in that position. Which she wasn’t.

She just didn’t want anything to do with him at all. If she was in the mood for talking she wouldn’t have taken a corner booth as far in the back as she could get.

“Miss Deavor?”

“Gail, tell him…” Evelyn sighed. “Tell him…”

She idly scanned the bar, then had an inspiration. “Gail, don't tell him anything. See that woman two seats to his left? Auburn shoulder-length hair, about my age?”

“Uh-huh.”

“What's she drinking?”

“House red.”

“Mm. That won’t do. Bring her… Red Dubonnet, rocks, twist of lemon. Compliments of me. And here’s a twenty for your trouble.”

“Oh no, that’s too much. I mean, are you sure?”

“Then call it ten from me, and the ten he should’ve tipped you. Is that okay?”

“It sure is. I mean, thank you Miss Deavor.”

Evelyn sipped her scotch and watched Mr. Man’s consternation as Gail passed him once without stopping, and again to deliver the drink to the woman at the bar. Evelyn smiled to herself, watching him oscillate between irritation and confusion.

A minute later she looked up to see the woman standing in front of her table, holding the drink. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, although she kept the rest of her face blank. “Hi. Looks like you bought me a drink.”

“Looks like you got it. How is it?”

“Good. I’ve never had Dubonnet before.”

“About time. Care to....?” Evelyn waved at the seat across from hers. The woman sat down.

 _Oh my god, I love her voice,_ thought Evelyn. _That southern accent, that not-exactly-a-lisp_. “Evelyn, by the way.”

“Helen.” They smiled tentatively, cautiously at each other. “So, um, a woman buying another woman a drink. I didn’t think this was That Kind of place.” There was just enough amusement in her voice that she could pass it off as a joke if things went sour.

“It isn’t,” said Evelyn, calmly. “But I know a place that is.”

Relieved, they smiled openly. “Maybe we should finish our drinks first,” said Helen.


End file.
